Savior
by Mummyluvr
Summary: It was simple. They couldn't take his brother's soul if there was no soul to take. But no soul meant no morals, no morals meant innocent blood spilled, blood ringing familiar lips, lips stained crimson by the threat of an eternity in Hell. One-shot.


**Title:** Savior

**Summary:** In the beginning, it seemed so easy. They couldn't take his brother's soul if there was no soul to take. In the end, it seemed so wrong. No soul meant no morals, no morals meant innocent blood spilled, blood ringing once-innocent lips, lips stained crimson by the threat of an eternity in Hell. In the end, he'd been wrong. Dead wrong. One-shot.

**Rating:** T

**A/N:** Written for the Creature Challenge at the Supernatural.tv boards. The story had to be about or involve a vampire and at least one of the Winchesters. Inspiration struck, and this is what I got.

**Disclaimer: **The show isn't mine, but I can dream, right?

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**Savior**

The way he saw it, he'd had no choice. He'd known it was wrong to do, but he'd trusted the other man, trusted him with his life, trusted him to be able to handle it, to handle anything.

He'd been wrong. Dead wrong.

The plan had been simple, really. They couldn't take a soul if there was no soul to take. He'd started to hunt when they'd had about two months left together. He'd finally tracked down Lenore and her nest, had begged a favor even though it went against everything that she stood for.

In the end, she owed him, and he was the one holding the machete. She chose life over death, death over life, an eternity of blood running freely from the mouth of one so familiar and yet so strange. A soul no longer there stained crimson with heinous crimes of lust and hunger.

She had turned his brother, and she had paid dearly. He'd lost his soul. She'd lost her head. And it was all his fault. He had unleashed a monster onto the world.

And the bodies piled up.

Three months past his planned date of death, three long months after he was supposed to be taken but wasn't, the brothers met again. The warehouse was dark, stained with blood and death and despair. It was the closest thing to a home that the man- no, _vampire_- had ever really known. It was his. Nobody was going to take it.

He was in the middle of a feast when his sibling-turned-murderer arrived, armed to the teeth, armed to kill. His head was down in the woman's neck, his fangs out, blood spilling freely, tongue lapping hungrily as his victim thrashed weakly in his strong grasp.

He noted the blood under the vamp's nail with disgust, the way the long fingers were coated with it, the roughness of features, haggard appearance. He regretted his choice, regretted saving what had once been his brother, because this was the farthest thing from his lifelong friend that there could ever be. This wasn't him. This was a monster.

By their father's orders, monsters were to be exterminated.

Sand crunched under his feet and the thing stopped feeding. The familiar head cocked to one side, the too-shaggy hair falling across his face with the action. He rose, leaving the girl to die, to struggle, to plead with watering eyes and pooling life-blood.

He turned toward his brother, blood-stained face red and raw under even the dim lights of his chosen home, his nest, his lair. His eyes held no remorse, no sympathy, no sign of compassion. They were different, darker, _evil_. Not what they had once been, not what they should have been.

The hunter stood frozen to his spot, looking at the thing that he had once loved, his own flesh and blood, his brother. In trying to save him, trying to stop his destiny from swallowing him whole, from taking him down where fires burnt and souls turned black with smoke and torture, he had ruined him. He'd turned his brother's soul blacker than the starless sky, blacker than a demon's eyes, blacker than it was ever meant to be. He hadn't saved him from Hell, hadn't returned the favor. He'd given the man an express ticket and set him on the long, black train. He'd killed his brother. Killed the only person he'd had left.

And now he was going to do it for real.

His hands, numb as they were, reached mechanically for the machete sheathed at his side, sliding it out. His eyes caught its deadly glint and he swallowed hard. He'd tried. He'd tried to save his brother from what he was bound to become in the aftermath of that damned deal, but he'd failed once again, failed just like he always had and always would.

The vampire smiled, revealing deadly fangs, bloody fangs, fangs that he had put there. "Dean," he said, "how nice of you to join me."

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The End.

So, what do you think? Reviews are welcome, as always :)


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